


The Expedition

by LooNEY_DAC



Series: LooNEY_DAC's SSSS AUs [14]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Dark, Gen, will get better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooNEY_DAC/pseuds/LooNEY_DAC





	1. The Omnicidal Council of Psychoactive Psychotic Psions

No one ever stood before the Dark Council in the flesh and lived.

This had been a guiding precept of the Council even before they had pushed the world into a nuclear armageddon from which only they had emerged as victors; this was so even to the day that they Summoned the four Questioners to their presence.

Trond was old and ready to die, but held his knives at the ready, determined that he’d take at least two of his killers with him.

Taru had thrown up three times immediately before the meeting began, and was ready to fall on her knees and beg for her life at a moment’s notice.

Then there were the driving forces behind this whole proposal, the most feared duo outside the Council itself--Siv “the Butcher” and Torbjörn “the Terrible”, the Vile Västerströms. They were as calm as if they were attending one of the meaningless social events in which they so delighted; Siv, in particular, was looking at the Council member nearest her with the speculative interest that normally meant the person so scrutinized would soon become a subject in one of her laboratories.

Siv’s laboratories were as one-way for visitors as were the Council Chambers.

Torbjörn broke the silence first. “So,” he said in his cool, reptilian voice, “may I presume this Summons means Your Eminences have decided to look favorably upon our proposal?”

Taru’s breath hissed in shock at such arrogance, but the response, when it came, was thus:

“You may; and you would even be correct in that presumption, for once.” A pause. “Unfortunately, though, we have not approved the budget you submitted for it.”

“How much?” Torbjörn’s face could have been carved from stone for all the reaction it showed.

“Fifty percent.”

_This,_ at last, brought Torbjörn’s brows up in surprise. Then he shrugged. “It will be more difficult with that limitation,” he said, “but we can manage it.”

“Do so.” The lights bathing the Council Members went out, and the audience was over.

Somehow, Taru managed to keep from blubbering in her gratitude at still being alive until they were out in the street, but then it poured forth in great floods. She was utterly incoherent until the others had manhandled her into a local watering-hole and poured a few drinks down her throat.

“The reduced funding means we’ll have to call in favors to get the crew on loan from our respective militaries,” Siv observed coolly.

Trond smirked. “I can supply a captain and a medic without a problem.”

“I can wrangle a scout and his handler.” This was the first intelligible sentence Taru had managed since the audience.

“And we will supply a foot-soldier and a vehicle, as well as all the provender the mission will require,” Torbjörn said smoothly.

Taru and Trond looked dubious. “Are you sure a crew of five will suffice?” Taru asked.

Siv waved dismissively. “It will have to. I’m more worried about the instrumentation requirements.”

“The scout I have in mind can supplement or replace some of that,” Taru pointed out.

“We’ll see,” Torbjörn said hastily, forestalling something pithy and cutting from Siv. “But for now, I propose a toast: to us!”

The toast duly drunk, Trond attempted to reassure Taru, who was looking worried again. “Don’t worry so. By the time winter comes, we’ll be ready...”


	2. Blue and Yellow Make Green

Emil Västerström was terribly aware of the brooding presences of his aunt and uncle beside him. _Don’t show weakness_ , Emil told himself, his heart in his throat. _Don’t try to make friends; don’t bring disgrace to the Västerström name_ \--again. _Just be punctiliously correct and everything will be fine._

Of course it would be fine; it had to be.

So he tried to put forth an air of competent professionalism when the Finns finally showed up, extending his hand in collegial courtesy.

It was a wasted effort: neither took it, the taller, thinner one slinking by him without a word and the shorter, plumper one stopping to mumble something quiet and just as scared-sounding as Emil felt. Well, _that_ at least was a normal reaction to the sight of Emil’s uncle and aunt. The one who spoke also waved rather than accepting the handshake.

Germophobes, then. Well, that was fairly rational in this age, when the radiation Outside had bred super-strains of so many diseases; Emil would respect their custom. He gave a dignified wave in return. “Greetings,” he said in a voice he’d hoped would also be dignified, but which actually wobbled terribly. “I am the ordinance tech on our mission, Emil Västerström.”

“Hi.” The word was barely a breath, but actually getting it out seemed to give her courage to go on. “I’m Tuuri Hotakainen, and this is my cousin, Lalli. He’s our scout, and I’m his handler. He’s mute, and a mutant--he only communicates telepathically, and only to me.” She paused. “You have nice hair.”

“Uh... Thank you?” Tuuri had said that last as though pronouncing a curse upon Emil.

“I’m glad you spilled food all down your front. It’s the only human thing about you.” And with that, Tuuri walked away.

Emil deflated. Not bothering to turn his head, he asked his uncle, “You let that happen deliberately, didn’t you?”

“If you _will_ be fool enough to sleep so long and so soundly as to nearly ruin our schedule, you should count yourself fortunate that I was satisfied with your humiliation rather than one of my more standard punishments.” Torbjörn’s voice was as cool and reptilian as ever.

“The train to Mora is scheduled to leave almost immediately, Herr Västerström,” a nervous voice informed Torbjörn.

“They shall wait for us,” Torbjörn informed her. “Attend to it.”

“Our--our phones are on the fritz at the moment, sir.”

Torbjörn snapped his fingers. As the bearer of bad news was wrestled away, Torbjörn raised his voice to be heard over her pleas for a mercy he had never possessed. “You! Tuuri!”

Tuuri looked like she might need to change her pants from the sudden attention paid to her. “Y-y-y-y-y-yes?” she managed through chattering teeth.

“Send that freakish scout cousin of yours off to hold the train for us; and he’d better succeed.”

Lalli was off like a shot, Emil not far behind. Deciding to show the youngsters that he was as fit as ever himself, Torbjörn paced Emil, while Taru, Tuuri and Siv followed more sedately, Taru bearing the luggage.

Once they were aboard, Torbjörn told the youths, “We will arrive in Mora in a matter of hours. After a brief stop to gather some equipment from our Headquarters, we shall proceed to the Oresund bridge, where we will join your seniors. The five of you will then set off on our expedition. Is that clear?” After a pause, he continued, “Then there will be no need for any of you to disturb us for the remainder of this portion of our journey.”

It was an order; one Emil was most accustomed to hearing, though he knew the Finns might not be. A quick glance reassured him that neither of the two grey-haired youths sitting across from him would try to force themselves on Torbjörn or Siv, so he looked down at his stained shirt, sighed, and quietly went off to the nearest washroom to try to rectify his appearance as best he could...


	3. At the End of the Known World

This was the first time in Emil’s life that he had been somewhere that his Uncle and Aunt couldn’t have whoever they wished immediately boiled alive, and Emil wasn’t sure how he felt about it. On the other hand, he’d much rather think about that than about what had happened on the Dalahästen. He was such a coward as to fall prey to delusions in the wake of the attack—he’d actually imagined hearing Lalli speak to him!

Lalli and Tuuri seemed not to be treating him any differently now than they had before, though, so perhaps he hadn’t utterly disgraced himself—yet.

Emil glanced out of the corner of his eye at the stern, proud figure of his new captain and knew that there was _no way_ he would get out of this without disgracing himself utterly. She had made that clear with her introductory remarks to the three of them after Trond had presented them at attention; actually, simply by calling them to Parade Rest rather than At Ease had made the point clear. No, there would be no pleasing Sigrun Eide aside from sheer perfection—and Emil knew, to his shame, just how imperfect he was.

This imperfection was demonstrated when the XO introduced himself as “Mumble Mumsen”, with further mumbles that Emil assumed were some form of the standard pleasantries. Emil’s parents had been informed early on of his tin ear for languages; this extended to _spoken_ (though not _written_ ) Danish, which obviously continued to elude him.

A few moments later, Emil had found a Dane he _could_ understand—if only because the Dane only ever spoke at a shout that brought echoes from anything nearby. While this Admiral Olsen seemed to respect Trond, he treated Torbjörn  & Siv with a disdainful and distant semi-courtesy such as they had hardly ever been on the receiving end of. Again, Emil was torn; they were family, but they were… well…

The little group reached their assigned vehicle and immediately began the check-out and loading protocols, leaving Emil with no time for further reflection.

*

_How on earth do they expect_ us _to find something the whole world’s been seeking out for the last century?_ Lalli’s unspoken inquiry was as blunt as ever. _Maybe they_ mean _for us to fail_ , he continued before Tuuri could reply. _I’d bet Onni would agree_.

_Why don’t you try asking him?_ Tuuri shot back.

Lalli looked doubtful. _It’s really, really far away._

_Try anyway,_ Tuuri said. _I want to know how they’re treating him._

_Can’t be too bad if they want him to work for them after,_ Lalli pointed out. _Anyway, I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything._

_OK. What do you think of the Captain? She scares me._

Everything _scares you,_ Lalli replied. _I’ve worked with her kind before; you’ll do alright, unless you get on her bad side by whining and cringing all the time._

*

“Green lot, aren’t they, Captain?” Mikkel kept his tone casual as he came back to Sigrun Eide’s side.

“A bit pathetic,” she agreed without rancor, “but only for now. A few weeks under my tutelage and they’ll be up to par—or dead trying.”

_They might not be the only ones,_ Mikkel thought, remembering his orders…


End file.
